


Simple as That

by hockeysockey13



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: First Time, M/M, Pittsburgh Penguins, Rookie Year, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:57:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22705381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hockeysockey13/pseuds/hockeysockey13
Summary: Sid had had more than one hookup that started from a hint of a moment just like that. But never one that started in his own kitchen.
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Tristan Jarry
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	Simple as That

It started because of a single look.

It started because Sid was hosting a party, not a big one, just a dozen or two of the guys, and he’d had a few drinks. He was in the kitchen unwrapping the next catered tray of sandwiches and Tristan was finishing a can of beer a few feet away. Sid happened to look up right as Tristan finished it off, letting the can clank onto the kitchen island, his bright eyes catching onto Sid’s above flushed cheeks. He licked his lips.

Sid wasn't drunk, but he wasn't not drunk, and he couldn’t help but watch that movement, gaze lingering a second too long. When he looked back up, he could see that Tristan knew what he was thinking, and that he wasn’t opposed.

Sid had had more than one hookup that started from a hint of a moment just like that. But never one that started in his own kitchen.

They weren’t alone. Teddy and Jared were by the breakfast bar, Teddy listing over a stool and Jared fumbling a bottle of water open for each of them. Teamwork. Someone would have to call them a taxi, Sid thought absently, but it would be at least an hour before that happened.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” Tristan asked casually, nodding his head the other way.

“Sure,” Sid answered. He abandoned the saran-sealed sandwiches and followed the rookie further back into the house, past the second bathroom that someone would definitely try to use in the next ten minutes, past the back staircase. He followed Tristan into the laundry room, flicked on the dimmer light, and closed the door behind them.

Tristan was already facing him. “Tell me if I’m wrong,” he said, somehow bashful and intent at the same time. His painfully blue eyes stayed locked on Sid’s face as he leaned in, screening for any flicker as competently as he surveyed the ice.

The kiss was polite, neither soft nor rushed, and his hands settled on Sid’s sides.

Sid kissed back, strangely taken by the way Tristan wasn’t nervous to approach him, like so many people. In the flashes of thought in between figuring out which way to tip his head and feeling the slope of Tristan’s back under his shirt, he thought, But he’s too young.

Tristan’s hand on the back of his neck, and the way he hummed approvingly into Sid’s mouth when he dug his fingers into Tristan’s back, put paid to that thought.

“I,” Tristan said, breaking off, “I’m gonna get drunk. Too drunk to drive home. You can invite me to use one of your guest rooms.”

“Okay,” Sid said, then pulled him back in.

A few minutes later Tristan pushed on his chest. “I won’t really be drunk,” he clarified unnecessarily. “Just.”

“I know.”

Sid let him go this time, though.

\--

“I’ll be fine,” Tristan said, not quite slurring, into Chad’s chest.

Chad sniggered audibly as he held Tristan up. “Not a chance, bro.”

“You can stay over here,” Sid offered. “I’m stocked up on Gatorade and Tylenol.”

Tristan looked up, squinted at Sid, and sighed. “Okay,” he said, like he was doing Sid a favor.

The guys laughed, and Kris put Tristan’s coat back on its hanger in Sid’s entryway closet.

\--

Certain party foods could get rank if you left them out overnight, so Sid did a once-over of the downstairs before following Tristan up. He found Tristan in his own bathroom, the one connected to the master suite, helping himself to a spare toothbrush.

Their eyes met in the mirror.

Sid brushed his own teeth before kissing Tristan hard. Neither of them stumbled, or let go of each other, when they moved to the bed.

\--

Sid woke up being kissed. A hand on his flank stroked his skin, firm and sure, and someone’s blanket-hot body was pressed up to his side. He didn’t bother opening his eyes.

His alarm went off a few minutes into it. Tristan had his hand around Sid’s dick, moving slow and wet, and Sid’s hand was occupied with Tristan’s ass. It took an awkward stretch to swipe away the sound, but Tristan took advantage of it to find Sid’s nipple with his mouth, so. Alright then.

\--

Tristan left with plenty of time to make it back to his place to change before practice. Sid offered to make coffee, but Tristan said he had a morning routine, which naturally trumped polite morning-after niceties.

Practice was normal. If maybe one or two of Sid’s shots went wide when he saw blue eyes behind the goalie’s mask, no one could tell.

It was afterwards, when they were in the showers, that Sid caught Tristan’s slight glance in his direction, saw the way he casually smiled at nothing, and he knew it was going to happen again.

He didn’t have any regrets.


End file.
